


Workin' On Empty

by Hock_hug



Series: 52 Weeks of Hockey [44]
Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Bittersweet, Brock likes to take care of him, Elias needs a hug, M/M, Sad, tree roots as imagery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-15
Updated: 2020-07-15
Packaged: 2021-03-05 02:26:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 923
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25276882
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hock_hug/pseuds/Hock_hug
Summary: They were so close, and it hits Elias hard
Relationships: Brock Boeser/Elias Pettersson
Series: 52 Weeks of Hockey [44]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1122324
Comments: 4
Kudos: 24





	Workin' On Empty

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Puck_Wise](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Puck_Wise/gifts).



Elias was tired. Their post-season came to an abrupt end in the seventh game of the second round, and he was heartbroken and exhausted. Media was in his face, everything was too loud in the too quiet locker room, and he was doing everything in his power not to start crying while the cameras were pointed at him. Eventually, the reporters were pushed away by the PR management, and Elias was left in his stall half-dressed and able to cry in peace. The first tears burned the worst, all of the pain and anguish he had held in during the season streaming down his face. Next came the tears for the lost chance for the cup, and finally the tears for the work he had put into the season. Everything down the drain in two short hours. He startled when a hand brushed the tears off one of his cheeks, and he looked up to find Brock standing above him, eyes red and puffy. He brushed away the tears on Elias’s other cheek before taking his hand and gently pulling him up. Brock’s fingertips brushed his stomach as he grabbed the hem of his undershirt and pulled it over his head.

“C’mon, you need to get washed up before you go home.” Brock’s voice was quiet and soothing, and it got him moving. He stripped the rest of the way and made his way to the showers. He turned the water on as hot as he could handle it and stood under the scalding spray, letting it wash the night away. He washed himself slowly, barely conscious of his own actions. Once he was done, he walked back into the locker room and got dressed. Brock was sitting in his own stall, head tipped back and eyes closed. Elias could see the wear the season caused on Brock in the way that his beard was overgrown, the new creases on his face, and the dark bags that hung under his eyes. Once he was dressed, Elias approached Brock and held a hand out in a silent offering. Brock cracked his eyes open and after a moment, he grabbed Elias’s hand and hauled himself up.

They walked out of the rink side by side, silent and sad. When they reached the parking lot, Elias realized that he didn’t want to go home. He didn’t want to see the flowers blooming on his windowsill, he didn’t want to see the herbs in his garden, and he didn’t want to be alone.

“Brock?” 

“Hmm?”

“Can I come home with you tonight?” If Brock was surprised by the question, he didn’t show it. He just walked to the passenger side of his car and opened the door. Elias slid in with whatever semblance of a smile that he could muster. The drive to Brock’s house was silent. Elias let his head rest against the window as he closed his eyes. He was exhausted to the bone, but sitting next to Brock made some of the pain dissipate. A hand came to rest on his knee, and he opened his eyes to find Brock’s eyes on the road. Elias tentatively let his hand rest on top of Brock’s and let his eyes drift closed. He soaked up the gentle touch, the physical sign of support from his friend, and he fell asleep. 

When he woke up again, he was at Brock’s house. He clumsily unbuckled his seatbelt and followed Brock inside. Through the glass back door, Elias could see Brock’s beloved lemon tree. He could feel that it would bloom soon, and he realized that he wanted to be there when it did. He wanted to be in Brock’s space, he wanted to be close to Brock for as long as he could. Brock was solid, emotional, sensitive, and undeniably kind. He was Elias’s best friend, and he took such good care of him. 

“I’m going to get some fresh air.” Elias explained before walking out Brock’s back door. The moon illuminated the tree, the light peeking through the leaves, leaving shadows at Elias’s feet. He could feel the tree’s root system below him, and if he concentrated hard enough, he could feel every individual blade of grass in the yard. Elias thought of roots, strong and sturdy even in the harshest of storms, and thought of Brock once again. Despite his strength, Brock’s touch was always gentle. Off the ice, he touched Elias like he was something to be treasured and protected. On the ice he could be rough, but he never hurt Elias. He wouldn’t. Did it mean anything? Should he hope it meant something? Elias shook the thoughts from his head. Tonight was not the night to ponder such things. 

He wandered back inside and Brock offered him a glass of water. He took it gratefully, he didn’t even realize how thirsty he was, and drained it quickly. After setting the glass down, he walked towards Brock and pushed himself into his arms. Brock held him close, both firm and gentle at once, and he melted. They stood there, wrapped in each other’s arms, until sleep beckoned Elias once again.

Falling asleep in Brock’s spare bedroom, Elias’s last coherent thought was of how well he and Brock fit into each other’s arms. Maybe he had a place there. Maybe he could make a place for himself there. Before he could make a plan, he fell asleep, the moon shining in through the window and the leaves of the lemon tree casting shadows on the floor.


End file.
